


Optimal Temperament Partnership

by FrivolousSuits



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 11:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12887364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrivolousSuits/pseuds/FrivolousSuits
Summary: Harvey’s mark appears when he’s sixteen– no, his marks. He comes out of the shower one day to find that his entire torso is splattered with a creative medley of words, many tilted at odd angles, all in different fonts with no cohesive grammatical structure whatsoever: “pool,” “drugs,” “help,” “harvard,” and “trevor.”On the bright side, this means he might just get into a decent college after all. On the downside, his soulmate will likely be on LSD and thinking of another man at the moment of their meeting.How very encouraging.





	Optimal Temperament Partnership

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to flootzavut for telling me about this soulmate AU, and to statusquoergo for figuring what the T in OTP should stand for.

Everyone has a soulmate.

That’s what pop psychology says, at any rate, though the data make a less dramatic but still intriguing claim. During childhood, everyone receives a mark on their chest that expresses the first thought that a specific other person will have upon seeing them, should they ever meet. Together, the two of them are termed an OTP- an Optimal Temperament Partnership.

Scientists squabble over whether everyone actually meets their Partner (most likely not), and whether a Non-Optimal Temperament Partnership can, through communication and extensive emotional bonding, achieve a level of compatibility that in practice matches or exceeds that of an OTP (maybe possible, but only in incredibly rare situations)–

Long story short, everyone has a soulmate.

Mike learns to read before he’s two, and so when his soulmark appears at age three he understands all the individual words– “someone should burn that tie.” That said, he doesn’t understand what the sentence _means_ until he asks his mom, and she explains that he’ll likely make a fashion choice that offends his soulmate. Badly.

“I don’t like my soulmate,” he reports, scrunching his nose. “She sounds silly.”

Harvey’s mark appears when he’s sixteen– no, his _marks_. He comes out of the shower one day to find that his entire torso is splattered with a creative medley of words, many tilted at odd angles, all in different fonts with no cohesive grammatical structure whatsoever: “pool,” “drugs,” “help,” “harvard,” and “trevor.”

On the bright side, this means he might just get into a decent college after all. On the downside, his soulmate will likely be on LSD and thinking of another man at the moment of their meeting.

How very encouraging.

* * *

Harvey’s opinion of his future soulmate dives once again when the marriage of his parents, themselves an OTP, shatters spectacularly. He finds himself in the library, reading through the extensive literature on soulmates and realizing the field’s main questions are far less settled than the public would like to believe.

OTPs report having higher life satisfaction, better mental health, and fewer conflicts than other couples. Their children tend to be more academically successful and emotionally stable, and OTP divorces are almost unheard-of. Some scientists still caution against concluding OTPs are inherently superior due to confounding factors that complicate the data– most obviously, the fact that societal expectations may be skewing OTPs’ self-perceptions, pressuring couples to pretend happiness and repress conflicts that would otherwise arise.

In exceptional cases, after decades of repression, conflicts explode, and studies suggest that OTP fights are abnormally ugly and painful. The Partners in an OTP know each other exceptionally well, and they twist that understanding into a sharp weapon– they know exactly where to press so it hurts. The research is still in its early stages though, because major OTP conflicts are so terribly rare.

Harvey reads the journals and grows increasingly disenchanted with soulmate magic.

* * *

There’s something to be said for soulmarks– they bring Harvey and Donna together.

Donna’s stone-cold sober when they meet, so despite their instant chemistry Harvey never thinks they could be soulmates. Still, he raises an eyebrow when she shows up to a formal event in a low-cut dress and he distinctly sees the letters “arve” on her breastbone.

“Yes, that’s what you think it is.”

“You have my name written on your chest and you never thought to mention this to me?”

“Unless your first thought upon seeing me was ‘harvey’s not supposed to be back for 857 days, ugh, but who’s that, what light through yonder window breaks,’ I’m fairly confident you are not destined to be with me. I did, however, decide I should stick with you until I figure out who the hell _does_ think that.”

Harvey snorts, hearing her mark– it’s a mess, an erratic jumble of multiple thoughts and a Shakespeare quote, and he can’t imagine who in his circle could produce such nonsense.

* * *

Oh. That’s who.

Donna and Louis’ initial confrontation is explosive, a 180-degree spin from loathing to love, and Harvey starts to have some more compassion for Louis and his insecurities– it can’t be fun walking around with “balls too small for braces” on your chest all day.

Some days Louis and Donna are a disaster, when Louis misinterprets a neutral comment as an insult or crafts a new master plan to destroy Harvey’s life and Donna can barely restrain the urge to claw his eyes out. A few times, Harvey expects them to just walk out of each other’s lives.

When Donna collapses on the couch in his office after yet another fight, Harvey asks her why she never does.

She stares back at him, reddened eyes wide. “I can’t hurt him that way.”

* * *

Harvey turns forty, and there’s no sign of a soulmate in sight. He’s given up on finding them, and he’s oddly glad to miss out on the grand romance of his life. He doesn’t need the heartache and the stress and the drama, not when he doesn’t really believe in the magic of an OTP at all.

* * *

Mike turns thirty, and he’s still searching for true love. The day he dons a suit and picks up a briefcase full of pot, he looks down at his tie and snorts, wondering if this is going to be his lucky day. Maybe a police officer will spare a second to hate his tie before handcuffing him.

* * *

Harvey dresses for his associate interviews without ever glancing down at the marks sprinkled on his skin. A few hours pass, and then Mike Ross spills a briefcase of pot on the Chilton Hotel floor.

In the rush of conversation that follows, Harvey silently counts off the five words. Mike asked the police officer about the hotel swimming pool, and “drugs,” “help,” “harvard,” and “trevor” are self-explanatory. He doesn’t still remember what his own first thought was upon seeing Mike– the marijuana wiped his mind pretty effectively– but the kid doesn’t seem to be contemplating true love, so he figures it wasn’t anything that personally identifies him.

Only moments later, he grasps why the words on his chest are so strangely scattered– Mike isn’t (currently) high, he’s just goddamn brilliant, processing a hundred ideas simultaneously, drawing connections at dizzying speed, soaking in pure chaos. His mind is scattered and hyperactive and more wondrous than anything Harvey’s ever known. And as they match each other blow for blow, as Mike proves he can back up his every cocky claim, Harvey starts to think there’s something to the stories. Trusting in the electricity between them, he hires Mike, to hell with the law.

Still, he holds his tongue about the marks that hide his speeding heart.

He’ll exploit this chemistry for the benefit of his work, and he’ll skip the romance, and he’ll act the same with Mike as with anyone else. He’ll snap at the kid. He’ll press where it hurts. He’ll cut him out if he needs to.

When he orders Mike to “get that skinny tie out of my face” a few days later, Mike gives him a strange look, but he goes.

* * *

Rachel’s the one.

Mike’s not positive, but he’d estimate 65% certainty. The heat between them is tangible from the minute they meet, and then he asks her whether his tie really is too skinny, and she immediately answers “yes,” her expression a perfect mixture of disdain and pity, and that 65% skyrockets to a solid 90%.

Thus they embark on a strange, tense dance, one that rivals any are-they-aren’t-they plot from a soulmate rom-com. They never speak outright of their soulmarks, but they keep testing each other, giving little hints, faking a relationship, edging ever closer towards a real one. Mike looks up the health benefits commonly associated with being close to your soulmate– lower anxiety, better sleep, a sense of eudaimonia, of happiness and fulfillment– and finds he has them all, even as Pearson-Hardman piles stressors upon him.

Harvey warns him not to be with Rachel– it’d jeopardize his secret, after all– and Mike doesn’t know why he feels a pull to obey.

* * *

Harvey catches his resolve slipping when Mike’s around. He falls a little further every time Mike saves his case or returns a quote. His heart stings every time he tries to push Mike away– the days when he trades him away to Louis leave him doubled over with sorrow whenever he gets a moment alone. He tries to pull Mike away from Rachel, and he doesn’t feel as guilty as he should for interfering.

They’re better apart, he tells himself. It’s worth holding Mike at arm’s distance, if only because every slight would hurt ten times worse if they were really together. He can ignore Donna’s pointed glares. He can survive this pain.

He believes it, too, until Jessica says “jump” and just like that, his puppy’s screwed him over.

* * *

Plenty of people have let Mike down. Hell, Harvey’s been pushing him away since day one. Mike doesn’t know why it hurts so acutely now.

He runs to Rachel, and he tells her his secret. He tells her because he’s lost everyone he loves, Trevor, Grammy, Harvey . . .

He’s not losing his soulmate, not today. Rachel slaps him, and he deserves it, and she slaps him again, and then he’s pulling down the zipper of her dress and she turns and he sees her black lace bra and–

“someone remind me why I’m still married”

He runs.

* * *

Now absolutely everyone is angry with Mike, and he knows he deserves most of it.

He doesn’t understand Harvey’s blind rage, though. It feels disproportionate to the crime. And Mike’s slowly realizing he can’t stand being kicked from Harvey’s life permanently. Just thinking about it makes his skin prickly and feverish, as though his very body is rebelling at the idea, and that strange sense of despair is what drives him to Harvey’s doorstep one night.

“What?” Harvey snaps, opening the door after one knock, almost like he was waiting for Mike.

“Please let me fix this.”

With a roll of his eyes, Harvey lets him in and shuts the door before saying, “Did it ever occur to you that you shouldn’t break it in the first place?”

“I was trying to protect you, Harvey, I do stupid things when you’re at stake.” Harvey starts to interrupt, but he barrels on: “And I get that I was disloyal, but Donna’s screwed up, and Jessica screwed up now, and I don’t get why I’m the only one you’re furious with!”

“Oh, I’m angry with Jessica too,” he mutters.

“More than with me?” Mike says, voice tinged with pleading. “Because Harvey, she’s the one who put me in this position in the first place, and there’s no reason why I should be taking the blame equally—”

“You weren’t supposed to do that to me.”

“I didn’t _want_ to betray you, Harvey—”

“You shouldn’t have been able to!” he roars, spinning on his heel, and Mike instinctively scurries back a few steps.

Still he shoots back, “What the hell does that even mean?”

“You’re not supposed to hurt me like that,” he says, a strange emphasis on “you’re.” “You’re not supposed to leave.”

Harvey looks away, shaking his head, swallowing hard.

“Why me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mike narrows his eyes. “Why am I the one who has to be better than everyone else in your life?”

Harvey still doesn’t meet his eyes. Mike huffs and turns to go, but the sound of clothes rustling stops him, because Harvey—

Harvey’s taking off his shirt.

And somehow Mike knows why even before he sees the marks, the physical signs that bind his fate to Harvey’s.

“I—”

“Yes.”

“And you—”

“Yeah,” Harvey breathes, before adding, “I spent a quarter-century hating Trevor before I even knew who he was.”

His voice is calm and matter-of-fact, but when Mike looks in Harvey’s eyes he sees anguish. That’s why his own voice is soft, unsure when he asks, “Can I show you mine?”

Harvey nods.

And so even though he had never guessed Harvey would see him in any state of undress he easily shrugs off his own shirt. Harvey instantly bursts out laughing.

“I stand by my original judgment,” he eventually gets out. “It was a hideous tie.”

“Okay, why does everyone hate my suits—”

“They’re not worthy of you.”

Harvey should be surprised at how quickly the words slip out, with only the slightest trace of mocking, but he’s not. He’s sick of tearing Mike down and pushing him away when all he wants to do is–

Mike’s stepped close, putting one gentle hand on the back of his neck.

A hundred scientific studies flash through Harvey’s mind, casting doubt on soulmate stories, but–

He closes the distance.

But he has no doubt, in this moment, that he and Mike are nothing but magic.

So Harvey kisses him, brushing light fingertips against that ridiculous, exquisite sentence on Mike’s skin.


End file.
